poop

Brothahood

So I want to start a new blog. One of those fancy .com ones. Is it wrong to want to make money from my blog? Does that make me a sell-out? Honestly... I just want to be able to blog and hang out with my baby for a living.... Can a brotha do that?


I am the "brotha" in that scenario. I am in most scenarios...

Moms Gone Wild

I am topless more that I am top....full?..... topped?....untopless?

I don't wear a shirt a lot.

Is it because I am so super sexy and scandalous and down to party?

no.

It's because shirts are more problem than solution when you have a baby and are breastfeeding. She's hungry every 4.6 minutes. She spits up all up on me. She has somehow managed to trick the diapers into not functioning as diapers...they...undiaper?...and she then pees or poops all over my shirt.

So I just walk around like some tribal mother, feeding the baby and gathering wild berries.

Blog poop (I feel slightly uncomfortable with this title... but I'll manage)

I talked to my therapist today (aka myself while I'm driving) and I realized I am about 73% insane. Luckily I have a really good therapist so I feel optimistic about being able to work through this.

I got issues, yo. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person in the world that has issues so I'm definitely special. I overthink everything and stress and have serious anxiety, and you care about this because you don't have your own problems to deal with.

As happy as I am, I'm also miserable. It's only because I am constantly thinking about how my life is working and what I need to do to be better. Then, I end up not doing any of that stuff because I spend most of my day thinking about needing to do it. And watching 30 Rock.

I just had a day. You know.. just one of those days when I hated everything and everyone.. except my daughter, of course. I love my daughter. The faces she makes when she poops makes life worth living.

Let me tell you a major turning point in my life: when I felt ok with the fact that I poop. So liberating.

And yes... you do poop when you birth a baby through the vageen. I mean... I didn't.... because I don't poop....but most people do....so I hear.


Ok yes I did. Sorry about that. I had a brief relapse with the whole poop issue.

So listen, ladies. It's ok to poop.


This post is weird.


I think I'm now at 82%.

Kids and their music

This moment sums up being a mother:

I was holding my little baby precious in my arms. I was staring into her big blue eyes, and she was staring lovingly back at me- studying my face as I was smiling at her. Then there was this moment when her look changed. Her face brightened, her eyes widened, and I felt this surreal connection was happening. My smile widened and she seemed to be trying to smile back, and then she let out the longest, wettest fart-poop combo that the world has ever known. I swear it lasted 10 full seconds. Then she fell asleep.

And I loved it.


I remember the days when I would wake up at noon after spending the night before doing crazy party things (I'm such a mom now that I literally can't think of a cooler way to say "crazy party things") and then spend the day watching reality TV, going out to sushi with friends, shooting up heroin behind some abandoned building (I tried to make up for the "crazy party things" moment with that last one, and I fear I went too far in the other direction), and then cramming in a bunch of school work to turn in the next day.

That life seems so far away. My life now is so... responsible... and doesn't include any crazy party things or abandoned buildings. And yet...I like it.

Being a mom is so sappy.

I really am getting significantly more lame on a daily basis. I snap a lot more when I dance in the mall (mall dancing is less noisy than club dancing...see? lame); I am losing touch with neato slang terminology; I call people younger than me "hooligans." When you become a parent, though, you don't care about things being in style. You don't care about knowing who Joseph Bieber is. You don't care about what the homies are sayin' these days. You just care about germs, and living in suburbs away from sex offenders, and making your daughter Miss Toddler USA at the Miss Toddler USA pageant.

Priorities people.